Life After Death
by TwistedxKiss
Summary: Everyone killed by Lord Voldemort has finally been avenged, and Harry has begun his new life. But something isn't right. Things aren't seeming to click. Can there really be a life after death? Rated M because I don't trust my sassy mouth. R & R.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: ** _I am no one. I have written nothing worth mentioning. I lack creativity in such a way that I have no choice but to borrow the characters and basic plot outlines of other writers. But I have fun, so it's okay._

_This is the first fanfic I've ever written, I wrote this first part months ago, and I know it starts out a little slow. That's because I'm slow. It can't be helped. Bear with me, and I promise you wont be sorry._

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Life After Death

A layer of frost glazed the windowpane as a young wizard turned over in his sleep. A fire crackled in the hearth at his feet, and the clock above his head ticked steadily onward. It was peaceful.

A snowy owl hooted from its perch as the young man began snoring softly. At about 18 years old, he was fresh out of school. He was blessed with his mother's stunning emerald-green eyes that glistened like dew on the morning grass, and plagued with his father's head of jet-black hair that appeared to have a mind of its own, despite his desperate attempts to tame it. He wasn't all that different from other boys of his age, but there was one thing that set him apart from the others: He was The Boy Who Lived.

And it set him quite far apart from the others-- from normal people. It was a gap that he was often painfully reminded of, while only trying to live out his life like everybody else. You see, Harry Potter, for that was his name, was not like everybody else. From the time he was merely a year old, he was destined for something else. Something bigger; greater. From the moment Lord Voldemort lifted his wand and uttered that fateful curse that killed Harry's parents, and from the moment his eyes locked on the young sleeping Potter, Harry was different. There wasn't a witch or wizard alive that didn't know that Voldemort always caught his prey. But Harry was different. He survived.

Shortly before Harry's 18th birthday, the Order of the Phoenix brought the Dark Lord to his knees. And it was on that day that peace was once more restored to the wizarding world, and Harry was able to slide back into a relatively normal life-- his family had finally been avenged.


	2. Chapter 1

The Office of Absurd Amounts of Paperwork

(Formerly known as the AUROR OFFICE)

Snow was floating freely from the cream-white sky as Harry sauntered down the ancient oaken steps to the kitchen. It was a pleasant Wednesday morning, as was symbolically expressed through the little beam of sunshine peeking through the clouds and radiating over Harry as he walked toward the pantry. And not only was the weather lovely, for once Harry hadn't slept in. Assuming disaster didn't strike and he was actually on time for work, his employer would probably have a heart attack and die right on the spot. But the odds of that happening were slim. Chances were, Harry would just take his time with breakfast, and still be a good 15 minutes late. Some things just never change.

Harry's mind began to wander as a waterfall of milk cascaded over his morning cornflakes. As peaceful as his surroundings were, Harry's mind really hadn't been at peace at all since the fall of Lord Voldemort. Which made no sense to him, as one would think that this would be the most calm he's ever felt. But even though all was finally right with the world, something felt off to him. Something was still out of place. It'd been a nagging feeling ever since the thought "Voldemort is dead" first skipped across his mind, and it had been intensifying ever since. Though no matter how much more strongly he felt about it, he couldn't place his finger on exactly what was wrong.

His mind was brought back to reality upon noticing a cold, dripping sensation at his feet. Upon looking down, Harry realized he had been pouring milk into his cornflakes for several minutes already, which was far more than a mere cereal bowl can handle. Or his dining room table, apparently, as all the milk was now spilling right over the edge and onto his slippers.

Harry chuckled as he began to mop up the mess.

"At this point, I either need to laugh or cry."

Though moments after stooping down to wipe the floor, he began to rethink his decision not to cry. Which makes sense, as a rather large tawny owl had just bitten him in the ass.

"MOTHER OF GOD. WHAT THE BLOODY HELL."

Harry turned around to find two large, brown eyes staring straight into his. One of the biggest owls he had ever seen was perched on his knee, holding out its leg for Harry to unfurl the roll of parchment tied to it.

"Sometimes I wish we'd just go back to muggle post. Honestly."

After Harry removed his letter, the owl immediately departed back through the chimney it entered through. Harry finished cleaning up from his cornflakes conundrum, decided it was high time he nailed that fireplace shut, and sat down to read the tiny letters printed neatly across the parchment.

Dear Harry,

I feel like we haven't spoken in ages! I know you're busy with the ministry and all, but you can't possibly be working 24 hours a day! Do you have time off for Christmas? Maybe we could get the whole motley crew together.

Hope to hear from you again soon!

Love,

Hermione

She was right. It had been ages. Harry had been so caught up, what with being an auror now and all. Certainly the job was nowhere near as strenuous as it was during the Dark Lord's reign, but it was still time consuming, if not from paperwork alone. Harry resigned himself to writing Hermione back at some point that day when he had a spare minute. A Christmas gathering was probably just what he needed.

----

As it turns out, today was not such a miraculous day after all. Even though Harry had woken up at a reasonable hour for the first time since perhaps his birth, the time he had to spend tending to the owl wounds on his hind-region set him back quite far. He had to use muggle remedies for the first time in eons, as it is extremely difficult to accurately aim a spell at one's own buttocks. Harry knew better than to assume he was a proficient enough wizard to handle the task. It was back to good ol' antiseptic ointment and bandages.

The room heard a painful intake of breath and a deep sigh as Harry clambered out of the bathroom and his eyes fell upon the great dusty grandfather clock against the wall. It is unknown whether the sigh was because he was late once again, or because he had meant to take care of the dust on that clock ages ago. Harry was like that. He always had the best of intentions, but then when it came down to taking care of them, he just couldn't be bothered. Either that, or he'd forget. He almost always had something more important than clock dust to be worrying about.

Harry just managed to refrain from bewitching his kitchen towels to slap him across the face when he realized how long he sat there being preoccupied with the dust he was never going to wipe up. He was lucky his boss liked him. Anyone else would be selling trick wands on the street corner by now, with Harry's track record. Once he realized that subjecting himself to corporal punishment via kitchen accessories would take up even more of his time, he decided it would be in his best interest to forget about it and get the hell to work.

There are several advantages to being a wizard. Once such advantage is the ability to dress one's self with a mere wave of the wand, which is precisely what Harry did next. Though, like any spell, if you haven't had practice with it you probably wont do so well on your first attempt. Generally Harry preferred to dress himself the old fashioned way, but there was just no time today. So with a flick of his wand above his head and without a second thought, he threw on his traveling cloak and disapparated.

As per usual, the ministry lobby was bubbling with life when Harry arrived. There had to be at least two hundred people bustling along the shiny blue ceramic tiles that covered the lobby's floor. Some of them moving purposefully toward their destinations, some, most likely the visitors, just standing in awe of the room. Not only was the room large enough to house an entire herd of elephants, it could easily accommodate the circuses they belonged to as well. It was also more extravagantly decorated than any other building in the wizarding word (with dutiful exception to Gringotts wizard bank). With its wide sloping ceilings encrusted with pearls and emeralds, and dangling chandeliers made of shimmering silver and glittering gold, the room was quite impressive to people who had never seen it before.

However, Harry had apparated into that very same room so many times that the sight of the blue floor tiles only made him want to vomit, so he rushed straight through the crowd to the elevator. Once inside, he relaxed. No more annoying crowd, no more rushing to get to the office on time, just a nice, peaceful ride on the elevator.

"HULLO HARRY! HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN LIFETIMES, IT FEELS LIKE! HOW HAVE YOU BEEN? WELL? BEEN GETTING ENOUGH SLEEP? EATING HEALTHY?"

Harry could have melted on the spot, for he knew whose voice had just bellowed to him without having to look.

"Hello, Collin," Harry said regretfully.

Collin Creevey was an old schoolmate of Harry's. And not one he remembered fondly. He was known around Hogwarts for being the founder of the Harry Potter Fan Club, which was not one of Harry's favorites. Almost his entire second year was lost from his memory, due to the fact that the memory of Collin's incessant photo taking that year absorbed it. Not a year he reminisced about often at all.

"So what have you been up to, Harry? What have you been doing?" Collin inquired eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Oh... not much. Just working and stuff... you know how it is," Harry replied with a shrug, "Say, Collin... what are you doing here anyway?"

Collin looked startled at the sudden shift in conversation. He didn't very much appreciate the idea of talking about himself when he could still be talking about Harry.

"Ahh, nothing much. There was just some odd goings on at the Creevey place the other night. Was asked to come in and answer some questions and stuff, for the file I guess. Really no big deal. Have you gotten taller?"

Thankfully it was at that moment that the elevator's bell chimed, signaling its arrival at Harry's floor, and rescuing Harry from further interrogation. Harry darted out of the elevator without another word to Collin, knowing full well he was too naive to be offended, and made his way to the auror office.

Even with Voldemort out of the way, Harry was still very busy at the ministry. All of the dark wizards associated with Voldemort were imprisoned in Azkaban, and the others were intimidated by the ministry's recent victory, and had quieted their practices a considerable amount. However, the workload in the auror office had almost tripled since the fall of the Dark Lord. A non-ministry employee could never imagine how large the stack of paperwork would be for the final defeat of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. They went straight from the faded gray carpet, to the newly painted white ceiling tiles. And the stacks were so plentiful that there was scarcely enough room for the desks. Several of Harry's colleagues had abandoned their desks all together, having had it with trying to open their drawers only to send several hundred pieces of paper tumbling to the floor. If you peered out over the columns of paper, occasionally you'd see two shorter columns saddled with a long piece of cardboard obtained from Merlin only knows where. While uncomfortable, it was much more convenient than the desks. Harry recently joined the ranks of his coworkers working off the cardboard, having nearly killed someone via avalanche just one week prior. So when Harry walked into his office, he settled down on the floor next to what slightly resembled a child's play fort, which was in reality Harry's new workspace.

Anyone who knew Harry back in Hogwarts would vouch for the fact that Harry had always been a bit of a slacker. It is for this reason, perhaps, that Harry decided not to get right into paper work today, but instead opted to begin his letter back to Hermione.

Hermione,

You're right; it's been forever since we've spoken. I guess I've just gotten really absorbed in making paper airplanes out of the arrest forms I've supposedly been filling out the past couple of months. You know how that is, very time consuming work. Very draining. We're all suffering. One of my colleagues suffered a dreadful paper cut last Wednesday, and we haven't heard from him since. Rumor has it; he's been checked into St. Mungo's. Whether from blood loss, or from loss of mind capacity due to intense boredom, I am unsure. However, I am quite sure that more will follow if we don't have a break soon. I could have sworn I walked past someone huddled under their desk this morning, muttering about the paper not being thick enough to effectively slit their wrists. Frankly, I think they're all just trying too hard. While the paper is indeed useless in a suicide, you can make great origami swans with it, flapping wings and everything. And we had a fantastic game of paper football on Friday. I won, of course, being the most powerful auror here. Yes, worship me.

Right then, on to more serious business (for the first time in I don't know how long). Yes, a Christmas get-together sounds delightful. But I cannot take the time to round everyone up, nor can I host it at my place of residence. I am just so swamped at the office with paperwork, I really just don't have the time. So you'll have to arrange it yourself. Sorry, Hermy.

But I know you don't mind, because you've always been the more organized one anyway. If I were to try and plan this, I'd probably manage to somehow catch my head on fire while trying to mail out invitations. We couldn't have that. I wouldn't want to lose my dashingly lovely locks. That, and after extinguishing themselves, they could very well decide to take revenge on the world, and that would require even more paperwork.

So go ahead with your planning, and let me know what you come up with. I'll be waiting with bated breath. And you know that I am certainly not lying. In fact, I think I may even go set up a lawn chair on my porch so I can watch for your owl. And I'll learn a night vision charm, as I was undoubtedly supposed to somewhere throughout the course of our education, so I can be there 24 hours a day!

Godspeed!

Harry The Fantastic

Harry chuckled to himself as he sealed his envelope. He really was losing his mind.


End file.
